


Little Stars

by vondrostes



Series: Canon-Compliant Jackrry [2]
Category: Dunkirk (2017), Dunkirk (2017) RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, Casual Sex, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Facials, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romantic Gestures, but the dirty talk is...shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 16:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15441123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: They may not be in Verona, but that doesn't mean they can't indulge in a bit of classic romance.





	Little Stars

**Author's Note:**

> My 8th grade English teacher would be so proud.
> 
> This is a continuation of Cherry Styles but they're standalone pieces. I make brief references to CS in this, but there's no overarching narrative. This is just another smutty drabble brought to you by rumors that Jack and Harry were in the same province in the same country at the same time--a special occasion that deserves some celebration. Thank you to Rori for allowing me to bounce ideas.
> 
> Also to all you fantastic folks on Twitter who liked the kilt fic and will hopefully enjoy this one as well, please be friends with me. I'm cool, I promise. @TerranAlleen for fic updates, @vondrostes is my personal!

They met up in front of the waterfront villa at sunset. The first thing Harry said was: “You’re wearing socks with sandals.”

“Aye,” Jack replied drily, “and you’re wearing your gran’s slippers.” He nodded pointedly at the pale-yellow loafers clinging to Harry’s pigeon-toed feet, but the younger man didn’t even give him the satisfaction of blushing at the jibe.

“Shall we go inside, or are you planning on making fun of my wardrobe some more?” Harry asked him, sniffing pointedly, though Jack could tell he wasn’t actually offended.

“You started it,” Jack pointed out, unable to let Harry have the last word even now.

Harry just rolled his eyes and turned to go inside, leaving the door open behind him for Jack to follow.

They hadn’t even seen each other since January, when Jack had unceremoniously eaten Harry out under his skirt—and since then, nary a day had gone by when Jack didn’t at least play the memory in passing.

He’d been startled to realise after just a few weeks apart that he missed Harry. But it wasn’t the lovesick pining of a teenage romantic; rather a warm familiar glow, the embers of fondness still burning even in his absence.

Jack wasn’t ashamed to say that he’d jumped at the chance to see Harry again when they’d realised they were both in Tuscany for various work-related reasons. He was less nervous this time, knowing already that sex was not only on the table, but expected. And surely nothing could be more embarrassing than having your tongue up someone’s arsehole.

“I assume you didn’t tell your mum this is what you’d be doing when you kicked her out to go shopping,” Jack said as he stepped inside.

Harry turned around to glare at him. “No, I don’t tell my mum every detail of my sex life, thanks for asking.”

Jack held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

“Just come here,” Harry told him, shaking his head a little in annoyance even though his tone was fond.

The interior of the villa was a maze. Jack stuck close to Harry as they made their way through it, skirting the outer corridor before finally he stopped in front of a room on the west side of the villa. He opened it slowly, allowing Jack to take the first step inside.

Jack did so, and then came to a dead stop before he could take a second. “What in God’s name is this?” Jack asked, staring down at the monstrosity laid out before him.

“It’s a bathtub,” Harry told him.

“What kind of bathtub has doors?” Jack replied, incredulous.

“The kind that comes with a three-million-euro villa.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you planning to get undressed?”

“You do it,” Jack said automatically, surprising even himself.

It earned him a raised eyebrow from Harry. “Well, look at the bollocks on you,” he said, even as he moved closer to start unbuttoning Jack’s shirt.

While Harry worked to get him out of his clothes, Jack examined the (frankly insane) architecture involved in the washroom of the villa Harry had rented. The tub was floor level, positioned in front of a pair of sliding doors that when opened, allowed them to stare out at the ocean completely unobstructed. It made Jack feel a little bit dizzy.

The fucking rose petals floating in the swirling water made him feel dizzy too, albeit for a different reason.

He came back to himself again when Harry finally pushed his shirt off his shoulders and knelt down to work on his trousers next.

“Looking good down there, Styles,” Jack told him.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?”

Jack just grinned and let him yank down his trousers unceremoniously, leaving him in just his pants.

“You can take care of the rest,” Harry said flatly as he dropped down onto the tiled floor to begin taking off his own clothes.

But Jack was content to watch for now. Harry’s mum would be out for hours. They had plenty of time. He wasn’t quite sure how fucking an international superstar in the multimillion-euro villa he’d rented had turned into hiding from Harry’s mum long enough to squeeze in a few orgasms, but Jack certainly wasn’t complaining.

“You do theater, right?” Harry said suddenly.

“Yes…” Jack answered, not really seeing where Harry was going with this.

“How’s your Shakespeare?”

“I keep up with it well enough,” Jack told him, squinting down in confusion as Harry carefully tugged off his loafers and socks while sat on the floor, casual as could be, as if they weren’t about to fuck each other senseless in a ludicrously luxurious bath. “Why?”

“I want you to quote lines from Romeo and Juliet while you fuck me,” Harry said nonchalantly.

Jack blinked a few times. “Why?” he said again.

Harry stopped what he was doing and stared up at him in blatant exasperation. “Because we’re in Italy and it’s romantic?” he replied, as if the answer should have been obvious. “And to tell you the truth, I never really got over that crush on Young Leo. I mean, you don’t really look like him, but you’ll have to do.”

Jack muttered something under his breath about how Leo looked more like a crusty arsehole now, but Harry didn’t seem to notice.

“So can you do it?” he asked, staring up pleadingly at Jack once his kit was off and he was entirely bared to Jack’s eyes, his cock still hanging soft and heavy between his thighs.

Jack kind of couldn’t stop looking at it. “Of course I can,” he boasted. “What kind of arsehole doesn’t know Romeo and Juliet?” He stopped, frowning. “Do you know Romeo and Juliet?”

“Only the scene where they kiss in Act One,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?” Jack tested.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

Jack shrugged. He could work with that. “How do you want me?” he asked. Bathtub sex wasn’t exactly the easiest position to navigate. If Harry suddenly decided he wanted something different halfway through, things would get awkward.

“Do me from behind,” Harry told him, rendering Jack a bit breathless for a few seconds.

It never failed to shock him, hearing things like that coming from the cherubic popstars mouth. But Jack knew full-well just how dirty that mouth could really be.

“You want me to…?” Jack asked, gesturing toward the bottle of lube sitting on the edge of the tub.

Harry shook his head. “Can you get the lighter from the kitchen? I want to put out some candles.” Candles, rose petals—it was like they were on their honeymoon rather than indulging in a convenient long-distance bootycall.

“All right,” Jack said. He turned to go out and left Harry to it.

By the time he managed to find the damn thing and returned with the lighter in hand, Harry had already slipped down beneath the water. Jack gave him an annoyed look that was returned with a toothy grin, Harry’s eyes scrunched shut in mischievous glee. It made Jack feel a pang of something deep down in his gut that he didn’t care to give a name to.

“Condom?” he asked as he lit the candles Harry had set out on each corner of the tub.

Harry sighed. “I suppose we better. But I don’t want you to come inside me.”

“No?” Jack’s hand stilled.

Harry shook his head. “You pick.”

Just the thought had Jack’s prick hardening in his pants. Once he finished with the candle, he stripped off his boxers in a flash, kicking them quickly to the side before climbing into the bath with Harry.

They kissed once on the lips, chastely, before Harry turned around to prop his elbows on the edge of the tub, leaving Jack to the rest.

Once again, Jack found himself floored by just how readily Harry gave himself over to it, letting Jack push inside him with nothing more than a breathy gasp as he floated pliant in the water. The music seemed less corny now that Jack was sheathed in the plush warmth of Harry’s body, the rose petals appropriately dramatic for the sheer wonderment that took over Jack’s mind as he pulled out and drove back in again, slow and persistent.

He’d all but forgotten Harry’s request until Harry whimpered into the crook of his arm. “Romeo, Romeo,” he panted, “wherefore art thou, Romeo?”

Jack’s rhythm stuttered, but he managed to collect himself in time. “Then move not,” he said, grasping Harry’s hip with his right hand, and cupping under his chin with his left, “while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips—” He tugged Harry’s head to the side to kiss him again, sloppily dragging his lips across the corner of Harry’s mouth as he tried to maintain the pace of their hips moving together under the water. “—by yours, my sin is purged.”

“Then have my lips the sin that t-they have took,” Harry replied, breathing heavily now. Jack could feel his pulse racing beneath his own fingertips.

“Sin from thy lips? Oh trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” This time he kissed Harry hard, biting into his bottom lip rough enough to bruise, stabbing his tongue into Harry’s gasping mouth in counterrhythm to the plunging strokes of his cock into Harry’s body, leaving him breathless.

Not breathless enough. “You kiss by the book,” Harry quoted defiantly.

Jack sunk into the crook of his shoulder, laughing, then gasping at the way his laughter and Harry’s echoing chuckle shifted the connection of their bodies, spurring him into moving again.

Jack lost himself in it then, releasing his hold on Harry’s hip to tangle his fingers together in his hair instead, so much longer than the last time they’d been together.

“Your hair’s so fucking pretty,” Jack hissed in Harry’s ear as he tugged sharply on the fistful of curls, feeling Harry tighten up around him in response—whether to the pain or the praise, he couldn’t be sure.

“D’you remember more?” Harry gasped. He arched his back to lean into Jack’s hand, exposing the long pale line of his throat to the glow of the setting sun.

Jack was surprised he was still coherent. “You want me to keep going?” He hadn’t thought it was really that sexy, more embarrassing than anything, but Harry seemed to be of a differing opinion.

“Yes, God, please, yes, please keep going,” Harry babbled, rocking back even harder into the movement of Jack’s hips against his arse.

Jack struggled to collect himself for a moment before pulling something out of the archives of his mind. “Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs,” he recited, scraping the words with his teeth against the nape of Harry’s neck, the ridges of his spine as he fucked harder into him, struggling to keep his orgasm at bay, “being purged a fire sparkling in lover’s eyes.”

Harry’s breath stuttered in his throat, the nonverbal whimpers a tell-tale sign that he was close to coming. His hands stayed where they were, white-knuckled against the edge of the bath. Jack could see his cock, hard and untouched against his belly.

“Being vexed,” Jack continued, determined to see Harry through this, “a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet.”

Harry clenched around him hard, his cock jumping and pulsing thick ropes of come into the swirling water. Jack bit down as his body jack-knifed against Harry’s, determined to keep himself from spilling inside the condom.

“Don’t move,” he warned as Harry started to shift underneath him. “Need a minute.”

Finally, he was able to pull away enough that he could get a hand around the base of his cock. He pulled out slowly, both he and Harry hissing in unison at the slow drag of too-much friction as they separated.

“How do you want me?” Harry asked breathlessly, leaning back against the edge of the tub as Jack straightened up until he was stood thigh-high in the water.

“Just like that,” Jack replied, leaning down so that he could smooth away the damp curls clinging to Harry’s cheeks. “Stay like this.” He ran his thumb over the swell of Harry’s bottom lip, tugging it down just a centimetre, enough to leave a tantalizing gap between them: a target.

“My bounty,” Jack said, his voice wavering as he pulled on his cock, quick and fast, determined to come on cue, “is as boundless as the sea.”

Harry hadn’t moved except for the fluttering of his eyelashes, the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, waiting.

“My love as deep; the more I give to thee.” Jack choked on the last syllable, the muscles in his neck and jaw clenching in time with the contractions in his belly as his cock spurted, painting Harry’s face in white. “The more I have,” he panted, milking the last of his come directly onto Harry’s lips, tracing them with the tip of his cock, “for both are infinite.”

Jack pulled back, letting his cock drop down against his thigh with a wet smack as he stared at his handiwork, lost in the blackness of Harry’s dilated pupils, the endless dark within them.

He took hold of Harry’s chin with a gentle grasp of his thumb and forefinger, tipping Harry’s face up to meet him as he leaned down. “Thus with a kiss I die,” Jack whispered, slotting his mouth over Harry’s to taste the salty sweetness of himself of Harry’s lips, drinking in the hungry moans that accompanied the taste.

After they washed each other—in the shower, not in the bathwater in which they’d just spilled lube and come and who knew what else—and dried off, they tumbled into Harry’s bed together, savouring the bit of silence before Jack inevitably had to go.

And if Jack pulled Harry in for one last kiss on the front doorstep while his car waited outside, a few final words whispered into the curls covering his ear—well, they were the only ones who had to know.

“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”


End file.
